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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26893393">i'll rust with you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/paopuleaf/pseuds/paopuleaf'>paopuleaf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blaseball (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, keep thotting it up in heaven king, looks at tillman. yeah, musings about time in blaseball when you are a bastard with adhd, was going to like proofread this and stuff bc i wrote it at 3 am but uh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:36:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26893393</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/paopuleaf/pseuds/paopuleaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>at least then he aged. at least then the passage of time was evident in the people around him, in the way that declan's hair got longer and had to be tied up or else tillman would wake up with hair in his mouth, in the way that he got taller and then stopped and then just got older.</i>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <i>and then he joined blaseball.</i>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-</p>
</div>a fic about tillman henderson, having adhd, and being absolute <i>shit</i> at keeping track of time.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tillman Henderson/Declan Suzanne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'll rust with you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>top ten things i've written that didn't age well - number one: this was finished 25 minutes before tillman's incineration . rest in violence<br/>the middle part of this is supposed to take place during the party from my previous fic about luis acevedo, you dont need to go read that to understand this though !</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>time was already real fucked up before tillman started playing blaseball.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>like, okay. chances are if you talked to him while he was distracted, he wouldn't remember a word of the conversation. you could ask him about it later, and he wouldn't even know it </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened. </span>
  </em>
  <span>not that he would tell you that. days of the week were marked solely by when declan wanted to come over, and the saturday weekly meeting on xbox live.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>it all blurred together, really. days turned to weeks turned to months, void and lost. but - </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>at least then he aged. at least then the passage of time was evident in the people around him, in the way that declan's hair got longer and had to be tied up or else tillman would wake up with hair in his mouth, in the way that he got taller and then stopped and then just got older.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>and then he joined blaseball.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>the baltimore crabs. as a pitcher, and - well. he was kinda </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit </span>
  </em>
  <span>at it. but time seemed normal, for a year or two. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>it wasn't.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>tillman wasn't getting any older, anymore, and neither was anyone else.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>declan's hair got longer, but it seemed off, artificial, somehow, as if someone was trying to mimick the normal growth speed and missed by a mile. nobody was getting older. nobody celebrated birthdays, anymore, besides york silk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>time was marked by games, and games alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>tillman felt himself losing time even more. blank spots where games weren't significant, conversations he remembers but wasn't all there for. annoying. how's he supposed to deal with </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>there's still stickiness clinging to his arms, even though tillman </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>he got all the beer off - he wraps them around declan and groans, annoyed. "why'd you let me </span>
  <em>
    <span>do that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>bro…" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"did you want me to stop you?" declan sounds - somewhere between genuine and amused, lifting his phone higher to look at him. "didn't hear shit." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"fuck off-" tillman shifts, glancing up at the phone and </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck is that him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"hey- declan? declan? what's your lockscreen? mind- mind telling me what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>your lockscreen is, dude?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>pause. the screen clicks off, as if tillman would forget about it when the image went black - fucker. he scrambles to grab it, and declan laughs even as he protests, tussling until tillman is sitting solidly on his chest with the phone in hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>sure enough, it's a screenshot of the video fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>acevedo </span>
  </em>
  <span>sent to the chiclawgo group chat - not quite where tillman made a fool of himself, though. just him leaning on declan, midway through stabbing through the can, a smug grin on his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"kinda- kinda gay of you, dude. can't believe it." tillman tosses the phone back onto declan. pointedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignores </span>
  </em>
  <span>the look he's giving him, shut the fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>up </span>
  </em>
  <span>- slides off him just to curl against his side. "can't </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe </span>
  </em>
  <span>it got sent to the group chat, gonna- </span>
  <em>
    <span>get </span>
  </em>
  <span>acevedo next time i see them-" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"too embarrassing? i'm pretty sure, like, four other people got it on camera, you're not gonna- not gonna </span>
  <em>
    <span>escape </span>
  </em>
  <span>this."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"uuuuuuugh. like to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>try to shotgun a beer." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>declan snorts, runs his hand through tillman's hair. (tillman does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>lean into it. he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn't.</span>
  </em>
  <span>) "no thanks, babe, i'll keep my shit for when rivers isn't there to bully me for it." his other hand traces the "suzanne" tattoo on tillman's upper arm, before pausing. "hey, doesn't this make… like, seven years since we got these?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"what."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"yeah-" fingers go up in some kindergarten count, but tillman isn't really registering it. seven years. seven </span>
  <em>
    <span>years. </span>
  </em>
  <span>what the actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "one- four- seven. got 'em at the… in the same week you got the ones with loser." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>"has it really been </span><em><span>seven</span></em> <em><span>years</span></em><span>," tillman repeats. what the fuck. what the fuck. "dude, have we aged at all, have we-" he shoves his head into declan's side, keeps talking, because now he can't </span><em><span>stop, god</span></em><span>- "seven fucking years of this shit, eight, now- is it going to keep going on forever? i don't want to be stuck here- i'm the best blaseball player in the league, obviously, but i don't- i don't wanna be </span><em><span>stuck-</span></em><span>" </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>words like ash. where did the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>time go? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>declan hums. keeps running his hand through tillman's hair. (he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> leaning into it, even now.) "i think it's prolly fine, dude," he says, and - </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>yeah. tillman can accept that. "that's stupid," he responds anyway, and declan laughs again. "'it's probably fine,' very reassuring, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thanks</span>
  </em>
  <span>-" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>the laughing gets louder, and tillman keeps hiding his face, kicking his shin in weak protest. (only so declan can't see the fact that he's laughing too, shoulders shaking. something like relief.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>&gt;open gc "we are from chiclawgo"</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>tilly</b>
  <span>: meet me outside in five minutes acevedo im going to kick your ass</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>hard light luis</b>
  <span>: we'll see about that</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>declan</b>
  <span>: bro :( we were cuddling</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>tilly</b>
  <span>: what the fuck is cuddling</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>declan</b>
  <span>: brooooooooooo</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>rivers</b>
  <span>: this conversation is actively making me homophobic </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>sweet dreamys are made of this</b>
  <span>: you're gay</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>rivers</b>
  <span>: and what about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>winner</b>
  <span>: tilly does that to the best of us</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>tilly</b>
  <span>: :crabfuckyou:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>time's fucked up. tillman can live with that, because five minutes pass like normal - like not spent half-awake against declan's side, and he still gets to fistfight acevedo in the garden.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tillman did not win that fistfight . tillman also ran out of time season 9 day 64<br/>if you want to yell at me im on twitter @ paopuleaves, tumblr @ rylron and im active in the crabitat . im . i wrote this at 3 am but i think he deserves it so here we are</p></blockquote></div></div>
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